Тим Скоренко - Джейн - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

Cute Jane, I am writing out of an empty house: Gloomy and sad, flowing from the ceiling water. We are not familiar, of course, we are not familiar, however, we were never familiar. You have died before me for two hundred somewhere or a little less - it's hard for me to count the year, you died - I'm confident - I quiet in the summer, I can choose the festive evening to nowhere; You asked themselves to cook the bath, you ordered the maid to go home, this decision was blind, spontaneous, irreversible, as a shadow for your back. Narrow bottle giving almond soap, clock arrows running forward. Pey, my girl, the mortal life is sad, lei this sweetness in a barely ajar mouth, dripped on the fingers, swallow through the power, with wheezing, beat in hysterics, splashing on the floor with water, be afraid of the steps at the top, obey the screenshots, be dazzling, strong and young . Be young, stay so in albums, rejoice in the summer, and autumn, and spring. Cute Jane, I am writing from an empty house where only your picture on the wall.

Cute Jane, I came to you with a trap, with a bunch of devices and sensors in a backpack, in each of the rooms put eyes and ears, the camcorder in the timer on hand, thin strings, oil thresholds, sensitive sensors, exactly as in war. Wolf, as you know, probably feed legs; Ghosts feed scum like me. Cute Jane, I know: You are here, I feel. Give me a hatch, let me find you. Could and force, of course, but I do not want, you never know what will manifest ahead there. It was a mansion, and now - only the left lump, the table and paper, isged by my notebook, where the rooms, cities, names and nicknames, and on the last page - the outline of notes. Yes, I am writing sometimes, in the music school I used to study, but threw almost at the end. The school seemed prison. Well, now in the wild. The will of Solna imprinted on the face. Years and bars, no longer afraid to sleep, measure time in proven addresses. The main thing in our profession is not to fall in love, which has been sacrificed, which has revealed a couple of centuries ago.

Cute Jane, I have already turned off the signals, threw the cameras, records with a scope of steour. What else you need, tell me, really not enough? Maybe from the sensors to dilute the fire? I relax, sorry my fingers, a lady, gently drove on paper with my hand! - Jane, initially everything went to my victory, and here, please, who I am now ... The point is not the fact that I am pierced with you, in your house, it's like a cunning ride - just don't want to talk to me Even when I really want to chat. Dead - no matter, they can not say whether they can hear - perhaps another question. I believe that yes. And therefore will not be silent. listen to me. I have long been talking seriously. That is, I am writing, because so much easier, you might think in the phrase folded words. Cute Jane, I'm sorry for the uneven handwriting, so taught, and I am not to blame. time runs. I will die - and it will be. I believe, I hope and know what you are there. Well, i need to go. I come back to people again. You need to check two more dozen places.

Cute Simon, I am writing to you, sitting in the bathroom, right on the wall hand I carry the words. You dreamed of me: Beautiful, but very strange, you wrote me that two centuries as I am dead. I leave you this photo, dear, Dougurotype - unfortunately, is better not, - and I leave: in order to be able to meet you in two hundred coming years.

(c) Tim Namenko